Somehow, Day Three doesn’t seem as calm and quiet as I expected.
But as I sit with it now, I can see that today was calmer—definitely calmer than Day Two. I didn’t feel the need to write a 17-item to-do list, and I didn’t wake up with that sense of urgency that I used to carry like a backpack full of rocks. I actually had less on my plate today, and that alone felt like a small victory.
And shockingly, there was even time to walk to the mailbox and back. The total distance is about a mile, and my pedometer showed 6,809 steps by the time I got home. Day Three might not have been peaceful, but it was steadier. And right now, that feels like progress.
The Morning Reset: Therapy at 9:30 AM
Wednesday is my standing therapy day, and it couldn’t come at a better time. Retirement brings its own mix of excitement and uncertainty. Right now, I’m noticing this tug-of-war between my old expectations and my new reality.
My therapist recently asked if I wanted to come in at 9:30 AM instead of 10:00. She said it with a little grin—almost as if she were inviting me to lean into the extra breathing room. We both know the trip over Afton Mountain can take exactly 59 minutes if no one decides to turn I-64 into a parking lot.
She even joked that I might show up in sandals and a Hawaiian shirt now that I’m retired. But no—I slipped into my usual go-to-work clothes out of habit. After our session, I wasn’t heading to work, but my brain hasn’t entirely accepted that yet. We worked through some of this in therapy: identifying shifts, pacing, and permission to slow down. I know that I will need to focus on pacing myself.
My identity used to be father, husband, and assistant general manager. Now I get to reinvent myself. That’s equal parts exhilarating and intimidating.
I’m learning that I need a morning moment to “reset” my mind—just a few minutes to acknowledge the day, my expectations, and the rhythm I’m trying to create in this new phase.
Costco Adventures: Retirement Errands Hit Different
After therapy, I swung by Costco in Charlottesville. The moment I walked in, I realized how many employees I didn’t recognize. Nine years ago, I helped hire nearly every hourly employee in that building. Today, it felt like I walked into a parallel universe—same uniforms, same concrete floors, but completely different faces.
Running errands without the pressure of a tight schedule is… strange. Good strange. Instead of rushing to get groceries before my next shift, I had the time to look around, compare prices, check that all signs were hung, and even take a breath. Retirement errands hit differently—they feel more human, less like a sprint.
I admit, I did hear that our regional VP, Paul, had just arrived. It was almost a relief not to gather up my notes and numbers while heading to “majors” to walk with him. Instead, I finished my checkout and left the building without finding him. After all, I had just retired. But this didn’t mean I didn’t let my former boss, Bill, know what I had discovered. Bill texted back a quick thank you,
Getting My Steps In: A Walk to the Mailbox
Back home, I decided to walk to the mailbox. Half a mile down, half a mile back. Usually, walking feels like a task wedged between responsibilities, but today it felt like I was shaping a new routine.
Immediately. I noticed the crunch of gravel under my shoes. Suddenly, I imagined walking the trail in Nepal, next April—feeling the earth beneath me, listening to my breathing, and paying attention to my pace. I want to strengthen my core so I don’t fall off the mountain on the way to Everest Base Camp. (A good goal for retirement, I think.)
These small walks matter more now. They’re part of my mental and physical reset.
The 30-Minute Nap: Unexpected but Perfect
I wasn’t planning to take a nap, but after the walk, my body had its own idea. A 30-minute nap found me before I had the chance to resist it. I’m not sure I needed it, but it sure felt good.
For decades, naps were luxuries—something squeezed in on a Sunday afternoon if I was lucky. Now, my body is adjusting to a new pace. I’m learning that rest isn’t laziness. It’s part of recovering from a life that demanded constant motion.
The Empty Afternoon Question: “Now What?”
After therapy, errands, steps, and a nap, the big retirement question finally showed up:
“What does the rest of the day look like?”
It’s a question packed with freedom, uncertainty, and curiosity.
For the first time in years, there wasn’t a shift waiting for me. No checklist written out by hand on the edge of the Daily Warehouse Dashboard. No schedule to anticipate. I’m still figuring out what this phase of life is going to look like. What I do know is that it won’t look like what came before.
Retirement Isn’t a Vacation—It’s a Shift
One crucial realization surfaced today: retirement isn’t one long vacation. It’s a shift—of focus, of pace, of mindset.
I’m learning to listen to my body, mind, and energy instead of a schedule someone else created (even though I wrote the staff schedule). I’m realizing that small routines matter: therapy, walking, errands, rest. These little moments are building the framework for whatever comes next.
This isn’t downtime. It’s transition time.
Day Three Down—And I’m Still Figuring It Out
I’m optimistic that my shift in attitude will continue to expand. Today at noon, I’m heading out on a trek with my youngest sister on the Preddy Creek Trails near Charlottesville. I expect my life to keep evolving—Day Three already looked so different from Day Two.
The future feels bright, even if I can’t see all of it yet. Maybe that’s part of the adventure.
If you retired tomorrow, what would your Day Three look like?
